


Promptorella

by Ashino



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:43:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashino/pseuds/Ashino
Summary: Once upon a time...Prince Noctis, Prompto, Fairy God Mother Ardyn...A charity ball and fate.





	1. Once upon a time...

“Prompto!” 

He froze. That voice. That ugly, demanding, arrogant, son-of-a-bitch voice. He hated that voice. 

“Prompto?”

Again, that damn voice. Damn it and its wielder to hell. 

“PROMPTO!”

This time, angry. Really angry. Having to expel energy three whole times to shout had worn on the barer of the awful voice. If he didn’t respond this time, he knew he’d be in trouble.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where the hell have you been? I called three times.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I was in the gardens weeding, just as you asked. I just finished and was coming up to the house…”

“I don’t care. Get in there and get dinner ready. I’m starving. 

“Yes, sir.” It was hard to force a smile when he responded. So hard, in fact, that he’d awaken the next morning with a pain in his jaw from clenching it so tightly.

Such was the life of Prompto Argentum, a “maid,” for a lack of a better term, for perhaps the foulest pile of daemon shit to ever strut around Eos: Verstael Besithia. The rancid dung-pile was the lead researcher on some most-likely-unethical military project and had three equally awful daughters Prompto was about 90% sure were grown in a test-tube: not even the basest of women with a blade to her throat would so much as touch Verstael, and yet the girls looked oddly the same and oddly like him so they had to come from somewhere. They were horrible triplets with horrible names – Onette, Twoanne, and Threelle – and even just a moment in their presence made Prompto ill. 

He retreated to the kitchen, knowing no one would follow him there, and set about making a dinner about which Verstael and his three devil-spawns would inevitably complain despite stuffing themselves greedily, down to the last crumb. It would of course be delicious – they just hated him and everything he did on principle. 

“He-llooooo, Ignis.” Prompto sighed and flipped through the pages of a cookbook – That’s It! I’ve come up with a new recipe! – hoping to find something that he could make. It was a great book written by Ignis Scientia. Prompto had always been curious as to what kind of guy this Ignis was, but never got much further than his photo on the back cover of the book. Ignis was an extremely attractive man…. 

But back to the book, it was filled with healthy meals, all designed to hide vegetables from picky eaters and freedom to dabble with the spices and flavors of one’s preference. Changing just one ingredient did, in fact, leave the chef with a “new recipe,” and its eaters were always satisfied. 

The TV was on in the next room. News. Some chatter about the royal family. The triplets were glued to the screen, ever-ready to soak up the new bits of gossip and expand upon their already-delusional dreams of marrying into the royal household. They loved the prince, but really, who didn’t? Even Prompto had a crush on him. He was cute. Blue eyes. No, like blue blue blue eyes partially obscured by a mess of I-just-woke-up dark hair. He tried to appear dark and disinterested, but Prompto was convinced he was probably a big dork. 

Noctis. Prince Noctis Lucius Calem of Insomnia. 25, rich, single, and always always in the best, perfectly-tailored clothes. Ughhhh, Prompto would do horrible things for some of those outfits… and probably a date or two with Noctis. He had nice arms… and abs… and well, everything. Noctis always looked like a stud. Prompto, on the other hand, always looked filthy, poor, tired, and miserable, and although he hated to admit he shared anything with the triplets, he too didn’t mind imagining himself rich, famous, and on the arm of a dashing prince…

Three years had passed since he was forced into servitude. Prompto had been the victim of the most unfortunate of circumstances: He had somehow found himself standing over a very-broken piece of military equipment, and assigned the blame for something that had been out of his control. As punishment, he was to work for Verstael for four years. It must have been some damn important piece of equipment, for it took four years to pays it off. Verstael had been working to replace it ever since then, reminding Prompto of it daily since the poor blonde came to work for him. 

“A ROYAL BALL?!” all three girls suddenly shrieked at the same time. Interested, Prompto popped his head into the room. He liked thinking about fancy parties, fashion, dancing… The newscaster was talking about a charity masquerade ball hosted by the royal family. King Regis – such a regal, sweet man – and Prince Noctis would be attending, and the event was open to the public. There was some lottery system you could enter and essentially “win” the chance to go. The lottery closed in three days, the winners announced on the fourth, and the ball would occur a week after that. Prompto ached to enter the lottery, but even if he was chosen, there was no way Verstael would let him out of the house.

The girls clamored around the family room, screaming incoherently about what was probably the ball and mauling their father about what was probably his obligation to get them there. Prompto slipped back into the kitchen to make dinner with Ignis. He settled on “Triple Truffle Risotto” and began to cook… not thinking, of course, of a two people slow-dancing in the spotlight, blue blue blue blue eyes staring back at him. Of course not. That would be silly. 

***

Those three days came and went, and of course Prompto couldn’t enter the lottery, and of course, the dung pile and his three turd-children somehow managed to win tickets to the charity ball. On the fifth day, a woman appeared with a tirade of frilly (and quite nasty) dresses, each one more hideous than the last, and somehow, even after Prompto had thought he had seen the worst of the worst, the triplets emerged from the tulle pit in outfits that were outright repulsive. Suited their personalities, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure if he was more aghast at the dresses’ existence or the fact that they were chosen by actual human beings to wear. After the selections had been made and measurements taken, the woman took the dresses away to be tailored. Prompto went about his maid duties and tried to pretend that this wasn’t real life. 

The week went faster than he wanted it to go, and soon, he was standing in the foyer with three frill-monsters, all caked in gaudy makeup and reeking of hairspray and fruity perfume. Not to mention the glitter. There was so much glitter. Why was there so much glitter? He sighed. He’d have to clean it up later.

The dung-nugget Verstael emerged from his quarters looking, Prompto didn’t really want to admit it but next to his daughters, somewhat normal… which is really saying something because he was wearing a white three-piece snakeskin suit. A. White. Three. Piece. Snake. Skin. Suit. Prompto hoped someone spilled a drink on him. Or acid. Or both. Or set him on fire. Yes. That sounded good, too. 

Verstael threatened to beat him within an inch of his life if anything in the house moved even a millimeter, the quartet of fashion blasphemy piled in to a limo, and suddenly, Prompto was alone. He kicked at the glitter on the floor and went to get a vacuum to clean it up. He was reaching for the handle of the broom closet when he heard the front door open and close. 

Had someone come back for something? He hadn’t heard the limo… Oh astrals, was someone in the house? 

Prompto very slowly crept back towards the front door. He had become a talented creeper, with three years of experience avoiding the foursome of feces as much as possible. 

Yes, there was someone in the house. That someone was standing in the foyer, grimacing at the fallen glitter and scrunching up his nose, probably at the lingering hair-spray-perfume ensemble. Okay, so this stranger couldn’t be that bad, could he? They were both at least anti-glitter. 

The stranger’s outfit, however, could rival Verstael’s snake suit. Prompto didn’t even know where to begin looking. He wore five layers of clothes… wait, six? Most of them looked like vests, and the top layer was a long black jacket that hit the floor. And some long feathery black thing off one shoulder. A dumb old-man hat. A ratty scarf. Greenish pinstripe pants. And… coffee filters? Coffee filter cuffs? Oh there was a collar too. Is it part of a shirt? Yeah… a shirt. With horrible pleats. A coffee-pot aesthetic. An old man coffee pot was standing in the foyer getting glitter on his shoes. 

“Prompto?” the coffee-filter cuffs called out. At this point, Prompto didn’t even care. Nothing this six-layered-bad-hat-gross-pants man would do could be worse than what Verstael had been doing the past three years. He stepped out into the foyer. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh! Hello, my dear boy.” He took off his hat as he bowed deeply. “You’re looking… dirty… underfed… and thoroughly unsurprised at the arrival of a potentially-dangerous stranger in your foyer. My goodness, has it been that bad here?”

Prompto shrugged. 

“Fear not, my sickly chocobo, for I will have you fixed up and at the ball before you can say ‘kweh.’” 

Okay, now Prompto had some questions: “What? Wait, who are you?”

“Why, I’m Arden Izunia… your fairy god-mother.”


	2. Toads, Cameras, and Cactuar... Oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairy godmother Ardyn has arrived. He slings some magic around, and the princess is off to the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has decided to partake in a bit of my madness!  
> This is a mess and I love it.

“You’re my… what?”

“Fairy godmother.”

“And who are you?”

“Ardyn Izunia.”

“And you’re my fairy godmother…”

“Yes.” 

“Not father.”

“Nope.”

“Mother.”

“Mother.”

“Okay.” And well, that was a thing. A thing Prompto didn’t really understand, but add it to the list of things Prompto wasn’t understanding: the coffee filter cuffs and collar… was that a mesh shawl draped across his shoulders? And let’s not forget the fact that this man was here in Vestael’s house claiming to be a fairy godmother… and somehow Prompto’s.

“Why are you here?”

“Allow me to regale you with a tale. In an age long past, an incurable scourge ravaged mankind. A tiny menace that twisted men into monsters, the likes of which you've seen. In Lucis lived a savior that could cure the afflicted. His body would come to host myriad daemons, that countless lives be spared. But a jealous king, one not yet chosen by the Crystal, ostracized and demonized this healer of the people. Making a true monster of him… and banishing him to a life untouched by time of fairy-godmother work.” 

“What.”

“Anyway, if we’re through with this nonsense, let us proceed to the next bit of madness. You want to go to the ball, yes?” Ardyn ignored Prompto’s follow-up question. 

“Um, yes, but…”

“Let us begin.” Ardyn took off his hat and plopped it on one of the the suits of armor by the door. “By chance, do you have a pumpkin?”

“A pumpkin? I…” This was all happening a bit too quickly for Prompto. He was still stuck on “myriad-demon-host-body” and Ardyn was asking him about pumpkins. Ardyn sighed. He strode over to Prompto and slapped him across the face.

“Goodness, boy, get it together. You make me want to push you off a train.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Prompto wasn’t sure what “he just” was and didn’t finish the sentence. He instead watched Ardyn walk over to a bookshelf and examine the items displayed there as if he were looking for something. Prompto noticed two tiny… tags?... stuck to the back of his jacket that clearly did not belong there. 

“Ardyn, there’s something stuck on the back of your coat,” Prompto said, for some reason, as if this was the only abnormal thing to have happened this evening. Ardyn didn’t turn around and barely even acknowledged that Prompto had spoken. 

“Hmpf.”

“There are two little white things on your back. They look like tags.” There was really no way anything that the coffee-pot-godmother was wearing could be relatively new or even produced in the last century, but there were surely two white tags on the back of that jacket. 

“Wings,” Ardyn muttered. Wings? Prompto started to giggle. He tried to stifle it, but the mere thought of those tags being tiny wings was just too much. This man had broken into this house in clothes so hideous that they rivaled Verstael’s white snake-skin three-piece suit, announced himself a fairy-woman, and spoke of epic demon bodies saving mankind… and his wings were about three inches long, fluttering gently on his back like a butterfly. Prompto’s giggles began to overflow. Ardyn ignored him. Prompto couldn’t help himself. 

“You know what they… hahahahahaha…. say…..about…hahahahaha….small wings, right?” In a flash, Prompto was lying on the floor. Well, he thought he was lying on the floor. He was sitting there, really, small… green… hoppy. He was a toad.

Oddly, he didn’t mind and actually enjoyed the fact that Ardyn had not appreciated his dick joke. He began to hop around playfully, still ferociously giggling to himself about Ardyn’s tiny-ass wings. Ardyn huffed at him, obviously displeased that his punishment had turned out to be so enjoyable. He turned back to the bookshelf.

“Ah, this will do,” the fairy godmother muttered to himself. Then, he suddenly jumped straight up in the air. “Dammit.” He moved a bit closer to the shelf and reached out for… a camera? He walked straight back to toad-Prompto and dumped something on him. POP! And Prompto was a real boy again. Ardyn grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door and outside.

“What are we…” Prompto began. It was then that Ardyn threw the camera high in the air. “AHHHH!” Prompto yelled as he sprang forward to catch it. Verstael would kill him… Ardyn caught Prompto by the back of his shirt with one hand; in the other hand, a purple and black glow of flames appeared out of nowhere… The flames hit the camera and it exploded… into a carriage?!

A large black and silver carriage was suddenly in the driveway. It was square with a circular, camera lens door, the head and taillights looked like flashes, the wheel spokes tripods… 

“Now, horses…” Ardyn muttered to himself. He reached into his pocket, brought out a whistle and blew it. Two giant yellow birds trotted out of the shadows. 

“Chocobo?!” Prompto exclaimed. He loved chocobo and dreamed of owning one (or six) one day. He wanted to ask about the whistle (not to mention how a tiny camera somehow transformed into a giant carriage), but Ardyn was already wandering off muttering to himself again.

“A driver… hmmm… drivers?” Ardyn turned and looked back towards the house. Something caught his eye through the window. “Perfect.” He marched inside, jumped in the air again, cursed loudly before swiping something off the table, and came back outside. He held up two small cactuar models so Prompto could see what he was up to. Like the camera, the statues were tossed into the air again, smashed with purple-black flames, and transformed into something new. Two… cactuar? No, cactuar men.… in little hats and tailcoats… suddenly appeared next to the carriage. One began running wildly about while the other plopped to the ground in a supermodel pose. 

“That will do.” Ardyn looked pleased. “Now for you…” He turned to look at Prompto.

“Me?! Wait, wait, wait…” Prompto envisioned Ardyn tossing him into the air and blasting him with purple flames as he backed slowly away. Ardyn raised his arms, flames springing to life in his hand. Prompto had no time to react. There was purple all around him and then there was, well, Ardyn, standing there looking at him smirking. Prompto looked down. He was wearing a purplish-blue ball gown that matched his eyes.

“Hey, I…” he stopped short. That wasn’t his voice. It was a woman’s voice. “What did you do to me?!” Careful not to trip over the gown, he ran over to a window to look at his reflection. Sure enough, he was a woman. Not just any woman, though, he was awfully cute, if he did say so himself. 

His bangs were the same, those locks that would never lie flat still sticking straight up, but the rest had lengthened considerably, falling neatly in gentle curls to the middle of his back. His makeup was on point (Ardyn was scarily good), his eyes brought out by soft lines and colors. The dress was gorgeous: no glitter-hell, but a smidge of sparkle that twinkled elegantly in the light. It was princess-poofy, but not too much, with straps that fell off of his shoulders and sat gracefully in the curve of his triceps. His shoes, now these were interesting. Glass slippers. Glass slippers? Not the most practical, but at this point, meh. 

He had boobs. Like real boobs. Curious, he wanted to touch them, but with Ardyn there watching him, he thought twice about it. 

He had to admit: he looked good. He was surprised as how much the “I’ve been turned into a woman” thing didn’t really bother him: so many other unimaginable things had already happened this evening, why not add something like this to the list? 

“The magic wears off at midnight, so unless you want to be standing there at the ball as a man in dirty house clothes and an awful maid apron, you best leave before then.” Ardyn grabbed Prompto’s arm again and led him to the carriage. A cactuar man opened the carriage door and bowed Prompto through it. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Prompto called out to Ardyn before the carriage door closed. This was happening so fast. 

“Go to the ball,” Ardyn said simply. 

“And???” That seemed way too simple considering all the madness that had led them to this point. 

“Just be out of there before midnight. Farewell!” Ardyn somehow had his hat in his hand again. He bowed, placed it on his head, and was gone with a swish of his coat. 

“Hey!” Prompto called out, but the cactuar man had shut the door and the camera carriage had begun to move. He blinked a few times and shoot his head in disbelief. This was… not… what he had expected to be doing this evening. In fact, this was not something he could even dream of doing on any evening on any planet in any sort of reality or alternate universe. 

A godmother man dressed in coffee filters had appeared, flung some fire around, and wrapped Prompto tightly in a fairy tale. Ardyn hadn’t explained anything. There was that odd story about daemon bodies and lights and some crystal, but there wasn’t any real reason as to why he appeared before Prompto and not some other sorry bloke who couldn’t make it to the ball. There was no explanation of the magic, and zero indication as to why Prompto had to attend the ball as a woman. 

Maybe this was some twisted hallucination that Vestael had cooked up for him, and Prompto would wake up in some pod-test-tube thing to the shit-dumpster’s face leering at him. 

Prompto sighed and decided not to think about any of it. Say it was real. Some fantastic story come to life about the poor, dirty maid-girl being magicked out of her misery and into the arms of her prince charming. 

He started to laugh at the thought of it all. It was absurd. 

Looking out the window, Prompto noticed that the sky was stunning. The sun had almost completely set and its colorful tracks across the clouds left him in awe. At the fringes of such a breathtaking sunset was a deep, resilient blue. A blue blue blue blue. 

*  
Three taps on the door and Ignis’ voice heard immediately after: “Are you ready, Noct?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis grumbled as he got to his feet. The very last place he wanted to be was exactly where he was headed. Maybe something interesting would happen. It probably wouldn’t and would probably be a horrible night of thwarting his father’s thinly veiled plans of finding Noctis a wife. 

But…  
Maybe…  
Just maybe…


	3. The Burp of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic is so dumb, but I just love it anyway.   
>  ^^;;;
> 
> I've started the final part. Or at least what I think will be the final part. ^^;;; So hopefully not as much lag time in updates. 
> 
> A big thank-you to all who read. :)

“Ticket, please.” 

It was this exact moment that Prompto decided to freak out. Not when baby-wig fairy-godmother-man had appeared. Not when he was turned into a toad. Not when the camera exploded into a carriage. Not when the cactuar statues became into funny little men. Not when he looked down and saw he had boobs. 

Now. He was freaking out now. Standing at the entrance to the palace. 

He had no ticket. Ardyn hadn’t mentioned a ticket? Prompto had given up on listening to the details on the news when he knew he had no chance of going, so if there was any mention of tickets, he hadn’t heard it.

“Miss? Do you have your ticket?” 

Would the ticket guy just calm down for a second? Prompto felt all over his dress for a pocket. Of course there weren’t any pockets in a ball gown. In his bra? Women kept stuff there, right? Wait, was he wearing a bra. He grabbed his boobs and looked wildly at the ticket man.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh.” He had come this far. All this magic crap had been for nothing. All his hoping and excitement was all for naught. Ardyn had just played a cruel joke on him. Life had shit on Prompto Argentum once again. 

There was a light tap on his arm. A cactuar man? He had something in his hands… SHIT! It was a ticket. The beautiful cactuar man had a ticket. Prompto very unpleasantly and certainly not elegantly shrieked and thanked the cactus a million times over. He handed in his ticket and was allowed to enter the palace. 

The place took his breath away and left him sputtering and blubbling on his own spit. The epitome of a lady. He let himself get swept up in the crowd as they all shuffled towards the main hall, not caring that people were shooting repulsed looks at his complete lack of pride and reservation.

The main hall was… It just was. The sentence ends there. There’s no words to describe it. Prompto struggled to take it all in. He felt so small and insignificant standing amongst the grandeur. The architecture… the décor… the gorgeous people swirling around… the food tables… the food tables… THE FOOD TABLES!!!

The food tables slapped him back to his senses. Of course they did. He loved food. He made a beeline for the tables. Yesssssss. This is where he belonged in this affluent chaos. This was something he could do. Rich people and insanely expensive ball halls were one thing, but FOOD!!! Food was universal. Resisting the urge to start grabbing stuff with his hands, he looked around for plates.

“Is this what you need, miss?” Prompto turned and shamelessly gasped in the face of this new voice. COOKBOOK IGNIS. COOKBOOK SEXY SUAVE PUT-TOGETHER HOLY-SHIT-HE-LOOKED-GOOD-IN-A-TUX IGNISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Prompto didn’t even notice Ignis was holding a plate out to him. He just marveled at the beautiful, accomplished chef before him. Can you eat people with your eyes? Prompto was pretty sure he was doing that right now to Ignis. 

“Did you need a plate?” Ignis said, smiling softly at Prompto’s stunned silence. 

“I cook with you!” Prompto dumbly and excitedly responded. “You have a book! I have that book! I use that book!” Later, Prompto would look back at this moment and cringe at his brutal stupidity and complete lack of tact, but right now, he was thrilled. Ignis just chuckled politely and gently brought Prompto’s hands up to hold the plate.   
“Enjoy the food. And thank you for supporting my cookbook.” Ignis left before Prompto could really say anything else, and honestly, future-Prompto was happy he hadn’t had another chance to reinforce his buffoon-ness. Giddy and starstruck, he turned back to the food and piled his plate high, wondering if Ignis had been responsible for any of the dishes. He sat down at a nearby table and began to eat, watching the attendees amble about, craning their necks shamelessly in hopes of spotting famous people, and awkwardly upholding a sense of snobby dignity to try and seem important. Prompto enjoyed his people-watching and ate… and ate and ate and ate and ate. The dessert table was particularly decadent as well. A sudden chorus of voices sprang up from the far corner of the hall. The crowd swelled almost instantly. Had King Regis and Prince Noctis arrived? Prompto kind of shrugged it off and kept eating. What would he say to them, anyway? A glimpse of Noctis in person might be nice, though…

Despite eating so much food, he still looked fabulous in his dress and never felt overly full. Ardyn’s magic maybe? Still, after three more rounds to the dessert table, he figured he should get up and move around, maybe see if there was place he could step outside and breathe some air not polluted with social absurdities. He asked a staff person and was directed to a series of small balconies overlooking a garden. They were virtually empty; everyone still inside trying to find the prince or the king or whoever else they thought was cool. 

It was dark now, so it was difficult to see what kinds of flowers had been planted in the garden, but the glow from the windows was enough to show him it was immaculate. Prompto had developed an unexpected fondness for plants, having worked in Verstael’s gardens for the last few years. Plants were good listeners, for one, and they didn’t open their mouths to scream about dirty dishes or horrendously-smelling perfumes. 

Prompto suddenly burped loudly, one that bounced off the walls and echoed around the garden, and probably would have shaken the windows behind him had he been any closer to them. He looked around frantically to see if anyone had heard him, but the balconies were still empty. He sighed in relief. 

But then, he heard it. If the balconies hadn’t been so quiet, he never would have noticed it. It was small puffs of air… a laugh someone was trying to stifle, ultimately betrayed by the lack of guests outside. Prompto hadn’t noticed, but someone was on the balcony with him. Someone was hiding behind a large, ornate potted plant in the shadows behind him. 

“Hey! Who’s there?” Prompto tried to sound intimidating, but he was too cute to really intimidate anyone. The hider gave up trying to conceal their laughter and it let out. It was pleasant, clear, warm, not too much, just enough. 

“That was incredible,” the voice said, and its bearer stepped out from behind the plant. It was the fucking prince. Prince Noctis. PRINCE NOCTIS. IN HIS ROYAL GARB. Prompto had seen this man and this outfit on TV so many times, his heart fluttering at the cool beauty that was Noctis Lucis Caelum. Prompto just kind of stared at him, torn between screaming at the fact that Noctis was even more attractive in person, letting out the laugh he himself had been suppressing about the impressiveness of his burp, and acknowledging as truth that he had just burped in front of his biggest celebrity crush. 

His brain chose laughing. Laughing at this situation. Laughing at this entire night. Laughing at the fact Prince Noctis had been hiding behind a plant. Just laughing. Maybe a little manically, but maybe not. Anyway, who really knew?

To add to the randomness of the night, Prompto managed to glance at the prince’s phone. The screen was still lit, as if Prompto’s burp had caught him in the middle of something. 

“Kings Knight? I love that game!” he said excitedly, forgetting any kind of embarrassment a proper lady should have had after a burp like that. Nerves were out the window, caution dumped in the wind. Seeing Noctis here proved that all this shit was a dream, right? (Ardyn commentary: Wrong.) This was Prompto’s night and damn it all to hell if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.

“Really? I’ve never met a girl who played.” Noctis looked surprised. It was so cute. Everything about him was cute. Every damn thing. ALL OF IT.

“Well, I’m not exactly like other girls...” Prompto began. “Let’s play!” Prompto reached for his phone but… SHIT. He didn’t have it. It was probably at home. But then suddenly… he felt a sudden weight from somewhere in his dress. He dug around the poofs to find a pocket and inside, his phone. THANK YOU, ARDYN, he shouted in his head. 

It was then that Noctis’ phone rang. The prince looked at it and groaned. He answered reluctantly. “Yeah, Ignis?... Yeah of course I’m mingling. What do you mean you don’t see me? Where are you?... Food table? Yeah, I’m, uh, across from it. Yeah, on the other side of the hall… Meet me there?... Okay… Bye.” He hung up and looked at Prompto with an adorably cute but worried look on his face. “We gotta run.”

***  
How Prompto had ended up deep in the garden hidden from anyone’s view with Prince Noctis Lucius Caelum of Insomnia was beyond him. Noctis had grabbed his hand and ran with him, and before Prompto really knew it, they were off the balcony, down some hallways, and sprinting through the garden. He was now sweaty and gross, and he was pretty sure his hair was a complete mess. 

“Sorry about that. I just… don’t really like these things…” Noctis’ voice trailed off as he ran his hand through the back of his hair, messing up the already messy chocobo-butt he had back there. He looked a bit troubled and exceptionally tired. 

“Oh, uh…” Prompto didn’t really have anything to say. It probably wasn’t fun having all those people all over you all the time, especially if you didn’t like attention. Noctis was always in the back or behind someone in of any photos or broadcasts. So instead of offering any comforting words for the prince, Prompto just burped again. That melted Noctis’ troubled expression into a grin, and the two sat on a bench to play Kings Knight.

After a while, they put their phones down to save their batteries and just chatted about nonsense. Video games, snacks, more video games, dumb shit that happened around the palace. Cookbook Ignis turned out to be Noctis’ advisor, in charge of tracking down Noctis and making him do all of his princely duties. King Regis had been trying to get Noctis to marry because “he wanted to retire and go fishing all day.” Noctis had been engaged five years earlier, but it hadn’t really worked out. His dad didn’t want him to rush into anything stupid, but at least was encouraging him (strongly) to go out and meet some people. 

“Hence this charity ball.” Noctis sighed and slouched. 

“Ah, so this is an excuse for you to meet girls? That’s hilarious,” Prompto couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hey, don’t laugh. It’s awful. Do you know the types of people I have to talk to? Like I met this guy and this three daughters, and there was so much glitter and ruffles and thick perfume, I thought I was going to suffocate. They just giggled and tried to touch me and their dad kept saying how fabulous and single they were, and ugghhhhhhhhh.” Noctis shook his head, unable to continue.

“Dude, did you meet Verstael and the triplets?!” Prompto exclaimed. Oh, this was too good. 

“Yes! They’re awful! Er… uh… wait, do you know them?” Noctis was cutely worrying that he had offending Prompto.

“Yes. I freaking work for and live with that disgusting pile of behemoth dung and his three meadow muffins. They’re absolutely repulsive.”

“Oh good. I thought you were going to say they were your cousins or something. Yeah, they’re… they’re… something. I can’t even…”

They continued to talk about how horrible the Verstael household was, how the lab had been investigated multiple times for illegal experimentation, and how Prompto had been forced into their servitude for four years. Noctis was aghast. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal? I’ll look into it. That’s messed up.” Noctis sounded a bit irked. “Why haven’t you said anything to anyone?”

“Well, he lives way out near the lab, and I don’t have a family or anything at all to my name. As much as it sucks and they suck, I at least get food, clothes, and shelter. And when they’re gone, I can pretty much do what I want.” Prompto hadn’t had a choice about working for Verstael, but the circumstances surrounding how that came to be are for another tale and another time. Right now, he was too busy getting lost in the sympathy and concern that was emanating from Noctis’ eyes. 

After a few seconds, Prompto decided it was time to change the subject. “But enough about that stuff, tell me more about…” Noctis showed no resistance and launched into a story about a camping trip he went on with Ignis and some guy named Gladio.

***  
They talked and laughed for a long time. So long, that Prompto forgot about the time. In the middle of a hearty laugh at the expense of King Regis (Noctis was telling a story about introducing his father to memes), Prompto noticed a small movement behind Noctis. A cactuar man had appeared and was waving at Prompto, pointing to his watch. Prompto’s heart hell into his stomach. He checked his phone. 11:55. Shittttt. SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT. He stood up abruptly. Noctis looked at him, surprised and adorably confused. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I, uhhh, gotta go. Nice meeting you! Bye!” Prompto turned to leave. 

“Wait, what?” Noctis grabbed his arm to stop him. “You just ‘have to leave?’” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t explain. I have to go. I’m sorry,” Prompto tried to apologize, hoped Noctis would understand, even though Prompto knew perfectly well he would not. Noctis just looked confused, hurt even.

“I don’t understand,” he said, with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

“I wish I could tell you. I have to go. I, uh, I just…” Then Prompto did something future Prompto would think about every day from then on and enjoy. He grabbed Noctis’ face and kissed him. It was a blockbuster kiss, and screw flying sparks, Prompto was on fire as Noctis eagerly held him close, kissed him back…

He could have stayed attached to Noctis forever, but the cactuar man was pulling on his dress, then pulling his arm, crashing through the bushes and flower beds, around the palace to the waiting camera carriage, whisking Prompto away from the ball and away from the best night he had probably ever had. 

Crap. He had lost a shoe sometime during his escape, but it was just one of those stupid, impractical glass slippers. It would just disappear in a few minutes anyway. 

They were lucky to get down a side street and out of sight before the fairy-tale night fell completely apart. Prompto found himself boob-less and in his normal, dirty clothes, with two cactuar statues, a camera, and two chocobo next to him. He gathered up the statues and the camera and asked the chocobo if they’d help him get home. With a little push from one, Prompto was able to scramble on to the back of the other. 

“Okay. Let’s go back.” And back they went.


	4. An interesting upholstery pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's got a magic hangover and Ignis somehow gets him into some new pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for such a delay!  
> I've decided to break the last chapter into two parts. One wasn't quite enough. :)  
> I hope you enjoy! Please don't hesitate to leave feedback!  
> Thank you so much for reading!!

The next day, the world was sparkling. It was though the sun had finally risen after a decade of darkness. The scourge had been felled. Humanity rejoiced. Prompto felt like he had just gotten the “good ending” of his favorite video game… except this… this was real life. Or magic life. It didn’t matter. He had, even if just for a moment, found his own happy ending.

The butterflies Prince Noctis had left in Prompto’s tummy were continuing to gently flutter, taking him far, far away from the horrors and hells of Verstael’s dung-infested dungeon. He found himself humming and twirling around the house and gardens, not minding his chores for even a second. A very tiny part of Prompto’s brain was telling him to calm down, that midnight had been the end of his Prince Noctis dream, but he shoved that logic out of the way for the time being: he had kissed Noctis and Noctis had kissed him back. Eagerly. 

What else could possibly matter?

He was so engrossed in his fantasy, he failed to notice a sleek, sporty car pulling up the driveway. He hummed and skipped to the backyard to attend to the vegetable patch. The sun was warm that day. He needed to cover a few of the plants so they wouldn’t fry. He had just finished securing the shades when a shadow fell gracefully across the patch. Prompto looked up… And yelped in surprise, stumbling backward and landing hard on his butt in some mud. Ignis Scientia was standing in Verstael’s garden in his handsome and intelligent regality, brimming with so much refinement and sophistication, Prompto could actually feel it. Prompto’s mouth hung open stupidly in such a presence. 

“Hello. May I have a word with you?” Ignis asked gently, a tiny smile gracing the corners of his lips, probably the result of Prompto’s thoroughly-inelegant fall. How did such a distinguished man exist? And how did he get stuck managing the colossal dork that was Noctis Lucius Caelum? Shouldn’t the roles be reversed?

Prompto didn’t really know notice what was going on around him. Somewhere, Ignis had offered his hand to help Prompto up and… gave Prompto new pants??? Prompto was now seated in a beautiful black car in clean pants… and oh shit, a new shirt?! Looking back, Prompto would remember changing, but right now, his brain was so full of “oh my gods, why is he here? Whatishappeninomgomgomgomgomgomgomg.”

“Hello. I’m Ignis Scientia, advisor to Prince Noctis,” Ignis said, quite politely and professionally, extending his hand. Prompto took it dumbly.

“I’m Prompto Argentum. I-I-I have your cookbook,” Prompto responded nervously, stupidly, somehow finding the cookbook relevant to his current situation. 

The cookbook was quickly replaced with dread. Utter, pure, unadulterated dread. His stomach was complete chaos. A massacre of those previously-excited butterflies. He felt sick. He shouldn’t have told Noctis that he lived with Verstael. He shouldn’t have said anything to him at all. He should ducked back inside the palace and let the cactuar men and the camera carriage take him back to the hell that was his reality. 

This was bad. Noctis would be so confused, and unable to find his expert-burper nighttime-garden girl, think some blonde dude was out for his time and money and had spent the evening lying to him. 

“Is that so?” Ignis asked kindly, with a hint of something in his voice that made Prompto think he knew more than he was letting on. They dropped the handshake and slid back in their seats. Ignis leaned back, crossed his legs, and neatly folded his hands in his lap. He simply looked at Prompto. That was it. He just looked at him, the same way someone looked at an interesting upholstery pattern when the conversation in the room became awkwardly quiet. 

“Do you have a sister?” Ignis suddenly asked him, and Prompto, who was dumbly looking back at Ignis and running through the worst possible scenarios in his head, was startled by the sudden inquisition. He clumsily answered, “No.”

“Then how did you do it?” Ignis asked him calmly and nonchalantly as if asking about the weather.

“Do… what?” 

“Become a woman.”

“What?” Prompto tried to sound innocent, he really did. He just wasn’t good at this kind of thing, and he was up against Ignis Scientia. The odds were not good. 

“When I met you, your body was definitely that of a woman’s. I do not mean to sound indecent, but the way your dress was cut, your anatomy was much different than it is now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Prompto was still trying to fight a battle he knew he had already lost, but he didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could actually tell Ignis about Ardyn… though he would probably enjoy sharing the bit about the tiny wings with someone and laughing… a lot. 

“Please. I know it was you. No matter your sex, your look of surprise is exactly the same. While I understand that gender expression is different from biological sex and gender identity, I saw your chest when you changed into the shirt you’re wearing now. What was there last night is no longer there. ” Ignis smirked ever so slightly at him. 

“Now, I have a prince who is expecting me to come here, pay the rest of your debt to Verstael, and bring you back to the castle. He may, in fact, be a bit surprised to see that the woman he spent his time with at the ball has changed.”

“Noctis wants to see me?” Prompto had heard the other things, like his debt to Verstael being paid, some stuff about gender and his fabulous boobs, but the important part was that Noctis wanted to see him again. He also didn’t care (or notice) that he had outed himself with this question. 

“Yes, and because Noctis hadn’t shown any interest in any sort of romantic companionship for most of his life, King Regis sent me right away to retrieve you.” Ignis looked at him expectantly. “Given these circumstances, do you see, Prompto Argentum, the predicament in which I am currently sitting?”

“Yes,” Prompto answered, feeling quite small and as if he were being brutally scolded by a father-figure. “I’m sorry. I…” He fell silent. There was nothing to say. 

There was nothing that could fix this. In a bout of magic-drunkenness, Prompto had made a poor choice. He shouldn’t have gone to the ball at all. He shouldn’t have stepped outside for air. He should never have run off into the garden. He should never have sat there and spent the night chatting away. And he never ever should have kissed Noctis. Caught up in Ardyn’s magical tiny-wing nonsense, Prompto had ended up hurting someone he should never have met in the first place. The Prince of Insomnia could never and would never be with a guy, especially not the plain, non-royal, incompetent Prompto Argentum. 

Ignis checked his phone. Prompto heard the trunk of the car open and close. A man appeared at the car window – WHOA HE WAS HANDSOME – and opened the door. Ignis scooted over to let him sit down. The new ruggedly sexy man climbed in and sat right next to Ignis. Like RIGHT next to him and slung an arm over the hot chef’s shoulders. Prompto just blinked as Ignis asked him ever-so-calmly as if the hottest piece of man Prompto had ever seen did not just get into the car to freaking cuddle him: “This is Gladio, another of Noctis’ attendants. Did you have any other belongings outside of your room?”

“What? No, I didn’t… What?” Prompto barely owned anything and everything he did have was in a tiny closet that had been converted into a small space for him to curl up and sleep. And what? Things were happening too quickly. What… was… happening…

“Good. Then, it has all been collected and your debt has been paid,” Ignis continued as Gladio pulled an envelope out of somewhere (Prompto was too busy staring at his face) and reached it out for Prompto to take. He did. He’d probably do anything this mountain man would tell him to do. 

Prompto remained silent and opened it. Money was inside. A lot of money. What?

“All of the money you earned the last three years, plus a very generous tip. As it turns out, the equipment you broke was illegal to possess in the first place. Verstael will find himself in a lot of trouble very shortly,” Ignis explained. 

WHAT?!

“Th-th-thank you… um, wait… what?” Prompto stuttered, shocked into stupor… which was something that he would later notice happened frequently when he was around rich and famous people. Not to mention super hot people. 

“Let’s go then?” Ignis asked, eyebrows slightly raised. SO. FREAKING. HANDSOME. Prompto had to look away from Ignis, and made the mistake of looking at Gladio. SO. FREAKING. MANLY. AND. SEXY. WHAT. WAS. HAPPENING.

Prompto’s brain, overcome with attractive men, the envelope of money, the clothes into which he didn’t remember changing, and about a billion other things, just kind of stopped working. 

He didn’t really notice that Ignis had asked him a question, and he didn’t really notice that he had responded with “yes,” and he definitely didn’t notice when they pulled away from Verstael-dung-face’s wretched home. He just kind of stared at the space between Ignis and Gladio’s heads, not really seeing, not really thinking. All of the magic with Ardyn had been fun and crazy… as if they were playing make-believe and Prompto got to be the pretty pretty princess. Meeting Noctis had been completely unreal, so much so that Prompto didn’t believe it had actually happened. That kiss, man. THAT KISS. This was unreal, too. This was probably part of the magic… part of the dream… right? This wasn’t real. None of this was real. Prompto himself wasn’t even real. 

Gladio nudged Ignis, arm still draped lazily around the advisor’s shoulders. 

“Hmm?” 

Snuggling in close, probably closer than he needed to be, he whispered, “Get another pair of pants ready. I’m pretty sure he just shit his.”


	5. A Lack of Fabric Surfaces... And maybe some happily ever after.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto arrives at the castle to meet the prince. Armed with no magic and his sparse collection of belongings, he awaits his fate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for such a delay in posting this final chapter!! Chapter 4 notes mentioned something about it would be out quickly...  
> Thank you for your patience!  
> I hope this is the ending you've been waiting for. :)

“I’m sorry this isn’t the best place for receiving guests, but if you would please wait here, he will be with you shortly.”

Gladio dropped Prompto’s bags in the corner, exiting promptly after, and Ignis bowed himself apologetically out of the room. 

What. 

Prompto struggled to remember the morning. He had been doing his chores, Ignis had arrived, he had gotten new pants… 

And GODS HE WAS AT THE PALACE NOW. In a room. Alone. It was cold? This wasn’t the typical sort of receiving-guests room. Ignis had mentioned that. It was a training room, maybe? It was a longer and narrower room than most, still spacious though, with beautiful stone pillars running the length of it on both sides. A rack of weapons was in one corner, a few crates and some practice dummies in another. 

Oh gods they were going to kill him. No fabric surfaces for his split blood to stain. Easy to clean up off the marble. Easy to cover up, too: recruit tragically killed in training exercise. Nobody would even notice. It’s not like he had friends or family to ask questions about his whereabouts. He had hoodwinked and humiliated the prince. He had stupidly and drunkenly took complete advantage of the only fortune ever to come his way. And now, lured here under false pretenses, he was going to die. 

The doors burst open, which was a pretty impressive feat considering they were extremely thick and solid wooden doors. It’s him. It’s the prince. It’s Noctis. He was out of breathe, like he had dropped everything he was doing and sprinted to this very stone-cold room. 

THEY SENT THE PRINCE TO KILL HIM?! Prompto couldn’t help but glance up towards the ceiling and mutter, “Really?”

 

“Hi,” Noctis rasped, trying to catch his breath and make it seem like he hadn’t just rushed here from the other side of the castle, knocking over attendants and statues in his wake. He might have warped a few times. Maybe. 

“H-h-hi,” Prompto managed to squeak. Every bit of him was shaking. Death isn’t really fun, you know? Being offed by your dream man? Even less fun. “J-j-just d-do it, quickly, if you can.” 

“What? Do what?” The prince looked confused. It was really cute, and how Prompto noticed this amongst the drums of death beating ferociously in his head was beyond any sort of comprehension.

“Uh… Kill me? Right?!” Prompto squawked at him. 

“What? Kill you? What the hell are you talking about?” Gosh, Noctis certainly made confusion look handsome.

“But there are no fabric surfaces in here!” Prompto gestured wildly at the empty space next to him. He skipped quite a few steps in his explanation, but he was about to die so his brain wasn’t working all that well. In fact, it had gone completely haywire, skipping any logic and jumping straight into disconnected hysterics.

“Fabric sur…faces?! What does that have to do with anything?”

“SO MY BLOOD DOESN’T STAIN ANYTHING.” Prompto was shouting, as if the louder and more anguished he yelled, the better Noctis could understand why this was the perfect place to kill him. And that was for some reason an important thing for him to explain. 

“WAIT. ARE YOU BLEEDING? DID YOU GET HURT?” Noctis had started yelling, too, probably just to match Prompto’s energy because there was absolutely no reason for him to be yelling, and his face was suddenly full of (handsome) concern. He stepped closer to Prompto, looking him up and down checking for a wound and reaching for Prompto’s arm in case he really was injured and needed support.

“AHHHHH!!!!” Prompto slapped Noctis’ hand away and retreated a few steps. Sure, he had just asked to be killed quickly if at all possible, but suddenly that didn’t seem like the best option anymore. Could he escape? Was there another door somewhere? A window? Even if he escaped from Noctis, could he get past all the guards and away from the castle?

“WOULD YOU STOP? I’M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BLONDE DUMBASS. I JUST WANT TO ASK YOU OUT.” Prompto just looked at him blankly. “AND THAT’S NOT SOME TRICK TO BRING YOUR DEFENSES DOWN SO I CAN KILL YOU EASIER.”

“HOW DO I KNOW THAT?” Prompto shouted back before really registering what Noctis had revealed.

“WHY THE HELL WOULD I BRING YOU TO THE PALACE TO KILL YOU? DON’T YOU THINK IF WE WANTED YOU DEAD, YOU’D BE DEAD? I DIDN’T SPEND EVERY WAKING SECOND LOOKING FOR YOU AND THINKING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE I WAS ANGRY AT YOU. I DID ALL THAT BECAUSE I…” the prince abruptly stopped yelling. He wrung his hands together and looked down, stepped side to side a bit, messed with his fringe. When he looked back up, his face was handsomely graced with a sparkling flush. “Listen, I… I kind of… like… you… okay?! And you’re not in this room because there’s nothing that can get ruined by blood but because there’s just a ton of shit happening at the castle today, and I dunno, I like this room better than the other more formal ones…”

“Oh.” So… he wasn’t going to die…Good. That was good. And then… the prince… he…

“Yeah, so can you stop being such a spaz and talk to me?”

“Uh, yeah, uh, my bad.” Prompto’s brain was SLOWLY catching up after vacating during the hysterical death-fearing surge. The prince said… he said he… he liked… me… he liked… me? ME?! THE PRINCE LIKES ME?”

And then there were two very red young men standing in the training room. 

“So…” Noctis began. “Did you, you know, like me, too? Or…”

“YES,” Prompto said so quickly and so loudly, he almost knocked himself over.

“O-O-ohhhh, then… that’s, uh, good.” Noctis scratched the back of his head and his flush deepened. Prompto’s red burned brighter, too, and he considered for moment the room bursting into flames at the combined heat in their cheeks. 

“But… I’m… not a girl…” Prompto started, and a small hole began to open up in his chest. The prince couldn’t like a guy… Noctis had to have kids and carry on the legacy and all that other stuff that definitely did not involve dating a scrawny blonde impoverished man.

“Yeah, I know. I mean, you were already changing back in the garden before we, uh… and while we, uh…” Noctis did not say it, but Prompto didn’t need to hear it. Making out with Noctis Lucius Caelum in the palace gardens wasn’t something Prompto could ever forget. 

“Y-you knew I was a guy?! The magic wore off early?!”

“Well, yeah. I did. And yeah, it was starting to.” 

“And you still…?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And I’m here, right now, with you.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“So that means…?”

Noctis smiled awkwardly at him and looked back at the floor again. “Were you not listening when I told you that I… uh, that I liked you?”

“I mean, I was but I also thought I was about to die, so I wasn’t really processing anything…” Prompto said, trying to ignore how stupid he felt. Noctis smiled and bit his bottom lip. 

“So… can I step closer to you now? Or are you going to hit me again?” 

“I’m sorry! My brain just, and then I just, and I couldn’t…” Noctis just chuckled softly, and then Prompto was giggling a bit, too, and then they were both just laughing loudly together, letting the entire absurdity of the situation fall gently into the space. When their laughter slowed and they were both just standing there and smiling fondly at each other, Prompto found words first. 

“So the whole thing where I was a legit girl didn’t faze you?”

“Oh the magic? Nah, we know a few things about magic here.”

“Do you know the guy who came and did all that to me?”

“Maybe? There’s a guy out there who kind of owes me one for being the worst relative in the history of relatives, and this seems twisted enough to be his doing,” Noctis seemed to be cryptic on purpose so Prompto didn’t press it…. And he was a bit distracted by the sudden sensation of Noctis’ hands on his hips, curling around his lower back, pulling him closer… and closer… and closer…

“So, I know we still have a lot to talk about, but…” GOSH, Noctis was so close. He smelled so good. Those blue blue blue blue BLUE eyes shone like starlight. “I’ve just been thinking about something nonstop and I just want to do it again really quickly so I can think straight again and…” 

Whatever came after that stopped mattering as soon as Prompto kissed him. Honestly, it was a bit of a mess. Prompto came in too quickly and Noctis went out too quickly, and their faces just kind of smushed together. It was awkward, but so were they, so if you asked either of them, they’d both say it was perfect. Perfectly them. 

When they pulled apart, they were both breathless, red-faced (still), and smiling (still). 

“So, uh, what happens now?” Prompto asked, simultaneously REALLY wanting to know the answer and REALLY wanting to not know the answer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was still worrying about things like, “What will the king think?” and “Is this really happening to me?” and “Can this really work?”

“Uh, go have Ignis cook us something and then play video games?” Noctis offered, shrugging. 

“So go on a perfect first date? Okay. Sounds good.” Prompto’s questions and doubt would have to wait. His feelings for Noctis then shoved their way to front of his mind and occupied every inch of his thinking space. 

They wandered over to Prompto’s small pile of belongings, and between the two of them, they easily could carry them all. Noctis yanked open the heavy wooden doors and sunlight streamed in from somewhere beyond it, outlining Noctis in a heavenly glow. Prompto followed behind closely, stepping into that light and what he hoped was a much more fortunate future. 

The heavy training room doors closed behind them loudly and their echo bounded around the room for nobody to hear. 

Well, no person to hear. 

Teeny tiny wings fluttered in annoyance as a burgundy-haired fairy godmother-man clad in his horrid assortment of garments huffed, “Happily ever after, blah blah blah. Can we go now?”

A small, fluffy, blue cat bunny squeaked happily at him. 

“Yeah, whatever. On to the next time stitch.”

The blue animal squeaked again and faded away into a cloud of sparkles.

“What do you mean, poison apples? Get back here!” the grumpy fairy-godmother man shouted as he disappeared in the same fashion.

For no reason at all, Prompto stopped and looked back at the training room doors that had closed quite definitively behind him, like they were locking away all of the misfortune that had scourged his past. And for no reason at all, he smiled at those doors and sent a silent thank-you into the universe to the eccentric fairy-godmother man who had made all of this possible.

“Hey, Prompto!” Noctis called from up ahead. “You with me?” Taking a tender moment with the doors had caused Prompto to fall behind.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Prompto turned and hurried to catch up his new boyfriend. 

“You okay?” Noctis asked when Prompto caught up, wondering what had made Prompto fall behind. Prompto looked at Noctis, then to his new pants, then back at Noctis. A million things were blurring through his mind and there was a lot he didn’t know yet, but it wasn’t hard to be certain about his answer. 

He might not have been okay in the past, but right now, in this moment, his prince smiling at him pink-faced (still) and full of affection, Prompto was certainly okay. He was more than okay. The sun had finally risen for him, vanquishing all of the demons of his night. He was happy. So with all the cheese and love he could muster, he said, “I am now,” and swiftly pecked Noctis on the cheek. 

The two giggled and flirted and giggled some more as they continued on their way towards Ignis’ cooking and video games, disappearing around a corner and losing all sight and concern for the training room doors. 

And time would pass, more slowly here and more quickly there, but for the rest of their lives, the two would walk happily together, ever at each other’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I love the idea of Ardyn "atoning" by participating in these "time stitches" (as mentioned in the game but never explained; for my purposes, I'm imagining them as "storylines") and helping the boys get their happily-ever-after. And it's fun to think Carbuncle is taking him around and keeping an eye on him. :3
> 
> 2) The "poison apple" reference in the end is pointing to Snow White! I'm currently writing a Snow White-inspired fic for the Ever After Promptis zine!
> 
>  
> 
> 3) I'm on twitter now! [ashino_writes}


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